The Precipice: The Shape of Things to Come
by Hallowed Be My Name
Summary: When a man escapes from St. Claire's, the FBI believes he is a shape-shifter. Now, Fringe Division is on the case. Kirk Ambrose has to solve the case, fix his relationship with new partner and old flame Olivia, and solve his own unexplainable issues.
1. Prologue

LEGAL CRAPOLA: I don't own the rights to Fringe or Lost, blah blah blah. This is all just a story I came up with in my free time, and in no way reflects either show, yada yada yada.

OTHER CRAPOLA: This is the first episode in a Lost/Fringe crossover series. If you are just reading this for the Lost part, you'll be waiting a while until the next episode is released. The story is mainly about an original character, and how his oddly unexplainable, time travel-laden, multiple universe-visiting issues cause him to inadvertently tie together the stories of Lost and Fringe. During the course of the story, there will be flashbacks which shed some light on to his past, and the other odd events which have led him to the present.

--

PROLOGUE

--

"Patient #1542 has escaped."

*

It was freezing outside for Arvin Butler. The dead of winter was never kind in Boston, but this year it was particularly hostile. It could have been because of the seemingly endless onslaught of cold fronts coming in from the east, it could have been because last year was unseasonably warm. It may have also been because Arvin Butler had spent the last 18 years in a mental institution.

Butler ran through a forest of dead trees, wearing only a bathrobe and slippers. Snow a foot thick covered the ground, and fell continuously, heavily. He looked behind him, at the world he was leaving behind, and the guards who were trying to bring him back inside. They were heavily armed with tranquilizer guns, batons and tasers, and they didn't care about Butler, not at all. They were willing to not only bring him back, but beat him up. Butler knew that this wouldn't be an actual issue, not for him, but that it wouldn't make his escape any easier. He also knew that it would be unfortunate for their families, when they read the horrible truth in the papers. "Who am I kidding?" Butler thought, a smile coming to his face. "There's never a worry of the truth coming out when you're dealing with the media!"

Butler saw a run-down, brick building ahead, a supplies shack. Behind the shack, the fence passed close by, and there was a stairwell to the roof from inside. He knew this because of the time he spent with his "device", before the bastard doctors took it away. A tranq dart whizzed past Butler's head as he turned to run into the supplies shack. He jiggled the doorknob for a second, realizing that a key was needed. He decided on using the next best thing, and pounded his fist down on the doorknob. Arvin Butler appeared to be a middle-aged bald man, but his brute force was amazing. Butler entered the supplies shack while the guards trailed behind him, yelling and waving their fists comically.

-

Butler closed the door behind him, though it wouldn't actually shut anymore without a knob. He took a second to catch his breath and scan the room. There were a few cages with boxes inside them, and several boxes of different cleaning supplies and such were lying around the floor, piled up in some cases. At the back of the room, there was a staircase heading up, and a locked door on the right.

Butler reached his hand into the chest of his bathrobe, fished around, and pulled out a small box, with two wires attached. He checked the box over, trying to finish an inspection. Satisfied, he moved forward, looking for a place to hide.

-

The guard nudged open the broken door, his taser at the ready. He pointed it around the room, and carefully moved forward. Two guards were waiting around the outside of the shack in case Butler tried any funny-business, like jumping out a window. The guard inside the building was not worried about anything that a crazy old man could do, and in turn he wasn't being careful. Such a conclusion was reached as the guard passed two of the supply cages without checking between them, and Butler jumped out. Butler grabbed the throat of the guard, and smashed his head repeatedly against one of the cages. After knocking him unconscious, Butler took out his device.

The box was small, black, with a knob and a few dials. The wires attached to the box were odd. There were two thick, grey cords with a strap at the end. The strap had two very sharp spikes, and looked painful. Butler kneeled over the unconscious guard's body, and took the wire from the box in one hand. He opened the guard's mouth, and jammed one of the wires inside, where he penetrated the roof of the mouth with the spike-strap. Butler took the other cord and did the same to his own mouth, trying to hide his groans of pain. After finishing the process, he grabbed the small, black box, and began to operate the dials and knobs. When he finished, the transfer initiated.

Arvin Butler's face contorted and shifted painfully. He bit down on the cord to stop himself from screaming, as his eyebrows started twisting and bending. Butler took both his hands, and placed them on his nose, trying to mould his face in place as the transfer occurred. After a few more seconds, the process had completed.

Arvin Butler looked exactly like the guard, and vice-versa. He had taken the guard's clothing to disguise himself further, and left his old clothes on the body. Butler stood up, and walked out the door, leaving the body behind.

-

Butler walked out of the supplies building, past the other guards, and kept walking.

"He had an accident." It was all he said as he headed out of the snow-covered grounds of St. Claire's forever.


	2. The Shape of Things to Come

--

Chapter One: The Shape (Shift) of Things to Come

--

As the FBI SUV approached the familiar mental institution, tensions ran high.

Kirk Ambrose was the new guy in Fringe Division, and he realized immediately that the craziness didn't end with the job, it carried over into the workplace. His relationship with Olivia Dunham was problematic. Kirk and Olivia had shared more than just a partnership, but it ended badly, and she was still mad at him to this day. Since her partner died, Kirk's position in Fringe Division increased to the same level as Olivia. Kirk wanted to get back together with Olivia for a while, but she tried to keep away from him. Now, he was in a position to get her back, again. "Just don't screw it up this time!" The little voice in Kirk's head was very adamant about this issue.

Walter Bishop, Kirk figured, was even crazier than he was. Walter was a mad scientist working with Fringe Division, and he probably had no business being around toxic substances, or weapons. Walter had spent 18 years in St. Claire's, the very facility they were currently driving toward, for killing a lab assistant. Walter was always very nice, but he did have an... "odd" personality. He could be in complete danger, and start asking for different foods, randomly. But, he was certainly a help to the team.

And, Peter Bishop. He was definitely the most likable person of the team, to Kirk. Since Olivia hated him, and Walter was... as he was, Peter was the only one Kirk could really talk to. He was a nice person, although very stressed from having to take care of his father constantly.

-

The FBI SUV came closer, and everyone remained quiet. Walter was upset, because the last time he went back to St. Claire's, he ended up getting admitted a second time. He wanted to stay at home, and was in one of his moods because Olivia and Peter wouldn't let him. Peter was keeping quiet so as to not set Walter off, while Olivia was quiet to Peter and Walter for the same reason, but to Kirk because... well, because she hated him. Kirk kept silent mostly, as well. Finally, Walter spoke, breaking the silence, and replacing it with annoying chatter.

"I'm not going inside." He stated simply, staring out the window with a grim look on his face. "Walter," Peter started, not wanting to address him as his father, as usual. "you don't have to. You just have to look at the body, OK?" Peter watched his father, hoping for an answer. Sadly for Peter, there was none. He went back to staring out his window. Like father, like son.

Kirk was bored, and getting annoyed by the immature silence. "That's it." He gave up, looked behind himself, at Walter and Peter in the back. "This is a government mission, OK? This isn't a mother and father driving their kids to McDonalds after church. We have to act like adults. This fighting, this silence, it's child-like." He turned his head back, and continued his awkward, hypocritical silent-contest with Olivia.

*

The team of four stepped out of the SUV and walked through the gates to St. Claire's. Walter moved slowly, watching everyone very carefully. Some of the older guards still recognized him, and murmurs slowly began to spread amongst the witness crowd. Walter lowered his head in shame, but Peter, who walked next to him and put his arm around him, tried to be supportive. Inside the crowded snowy compound, Kirk walked up to the familiar profile of Agent Broyles: big, black, and bald. He was talking with a young, female agent.

"Agent Broyles." Kirk addressed him. Broyles broke himself from his conversation, and turned around to face the team. He was carrying a few folders, looking as imposing as ever. "Glad you could make it." He said in his usual, dead tone. "Have you been filled in?"

"Yeah," Peter began. "escaped mental patient killed himself. Why do you need us for that?" He crossed his arms, his leather jacket not enough protection from the cold of winter.

"It would be easier to show you." Broyles led them through the crowd of FBI agents, forensics teams, witnesses and civilians, around the main building, to the back. "So, any details on the victim?" Olivia asked, trying to, in some ways, beat Kirk to the punch. "That's the thing..." Broyles started, not entirely sure how to finish. "... well, you really need to see it." The team was interested, wondering exactly what it could be.

Broyles led Kirk, Olivia, Peter and Walter to a supplies building at the back of the St. Claire's grounds. Several people were standing around the building: FBI agents, consultants, the usual suspects, as they say. Across the field of snow, Walter saw Dr. Sutner, the head of the facility, and Walter's long-time enemy. Sutner saw Walter, who turned his head away quickly. "Peter... that man over there," He subtly motioned over to Sutner. "is Dr. Sutner, the head of St. Claire's." Walter sounded worried. "Don't worry, Walter. He's not coming near you." Peter patted Walter on the back reassuringly, as Broyles headed inside the supplies building. The rest of the team followed in suit.

The inside of the supplies building looked perfectly as it had before, except for the body on the floor. Kirk and Olivia knelt over the body, examining it for themselves, while Peter and Walter stood next to Broyles, as per usual routine.

"Broyles, what exactly is so special about this guy?" Peter asked. "Yeah, I mean, with all due respect," Kirk added. "he seems pretty standard to me."

"He does look standard. And that's what's so odd. He seems to have had no actual cause of death. But, check his mouth." Kirk looked up at him quizically, but checked the victim's mouth, anyway. When Olivia saw the two puncture points, she knew exactly what it was. "Oh... god. A shape-shifter?"

Broyles nodded. "We think so." Kirk was still confused. "A... I'm sorry, a what?" Clearly, Kirk was too wrapped up in the unexplainable events in his own mind to broaden his horizons. "A shape-shifter. They're from the other universe. They can change their bodies to look like other people." Peter explained in simple words. Kirk was still very confused, but accepted a while ago that he was going to be confused a lot in this new line of work. "OK, so... a shape-shifter. So, the patient was a shape-shifter, and he took the body of the... well, this guy..." He motioned to the body on the ground. "... and now, the patient is missing?" Kirk summed up the events in a quick fashion.

"That seems to be the case." Said Broyles, staring at the body. Walter looked nervously over his shoulder, waiting for anybody to come and put him in a straight-jacket. "Walter, don't worry. Everything is gonna be fine. Now, can you concentrate on the body, please?" Peter commanded in his always easy tone. Walter snapped out of the trance that he was in, and walked over to the body. He knelt over it as Kirk and Olivia stood up, moving back. "The other shape-shifter victims don't change to the shape of their killer's bodies. This one is different." Walter said, examining the body. "Agent Broyles, I'd like to bring the body back to my lab, please." He looked up at Broyles, who nodded his approval.

Peter watched his father examine the body, and looked around. Outside the building was Dr. Sutner, trying to watch Walter. Peter rolled his eyes and walked outside to confront Sutner.

"Dr. Sutner, leave my father alone." He stated, looking at his opponent darkly.

"I only want to watch him, Mr. Bishop. He was in my institution, I have the right to watch him work."

"My father can't work with you around. He's too worried that you'll come at him with a straight-jacket and a cup of pills."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Because you have before. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like you to give him some space."

Sutner looked like he was about to comment, but gave up, and walked away. Peter watched for a minute, to make sure he was gone, before walking back into the building. Walter was standing in the door-frame, watching him. Peter stopped in front of Walter, who looked his son up and down with a new-found respect. "Sorry, son." He said with a smile, moving out of the way for Peter.


	3. Waiting For a Ride

--

Chapter Two: Waiting For a Ride

--

As Kirk slowly slipped from day to dream, the world seemed to darken around him, predictably. With a quick flash of an imaginary light, Kirk had awoken in his dream.

Kirk emerged in the room, out of the strange transition to the dream world. He looked around: everything was exactly as he remembered it. The room was dark, tall, and cylindrical in shape. The ceiling was hidden by a layer of shadow which cut off any view after a point, but there was a window, so high up it was nearly distorted entirely by the shadow. Large, cyan-toned images flashed down from the window, moving slowly around the floor of the room. The images were of leaves, butterflies, flowers, even hands, and frogs, and other odd things. Accompanying the images were small, glowing yellow orbs, the light from which was the only source of illumination in the room. The orbs floated around the room, slowly. Over to the side, there was a black double-door who's color blended in with the walls.

Kirk was used to this place, having experienced this dream hundreds of times before. Too soon would the voice begin ordering Kirk to complete a puzzle which he knew to be impossible, to pull one of the yellow orbs within reach, without actually touching it. Kirk was under the assumption that telekinesis was impossible, which was true, though the task being ordered in this instance required no telekinesis, only mere concentration.

"OK," Kirk started, announcing to no one as he moved forward. "I'm here. You can give me your little test, now. We both know how this goes." He looked around, foolishly hoping to "see" the voice which commanded him. He smiled when he realized that nobody was answering, and started to laugh ironically. "This is classic. You give me the test when I don't want to take it, but as soon as I'm ready..." Kirk waved his hand again to nobody, as he turned back, walking away. He quickly noticed that there was nowhere to go, as the door in front of him had never opened once.

"You are still unready." A female voice announced, grabbing Kirk's attention. The voice was older, British. Kirk was very used to this voice, having heard it every time he fell asleep. It was not the volume of the voice which surprised Kirk, it was the words spoken. "I think I'm in the position to decide when I'm ready. Besides, who are you to tell me what I'm ready for?" Kirk tried to stand up to the voice in his head, a mixed gesture of monumental stupidity and insanity.

"It depends on what you want me to be. I could be your mind, in which case you subconsciously _know_ that you aren't ready. Or, I could be a higher power, in which case I believe that I would be a much more astute judge of your capacity than you. Now, which do you choose?" The voice patronized him and Kirk knew it. Which, as he also knew, meant that either way, she knew that she was annoying him.

"I pick..." Kirk pretended to decide. "... option three. You're just an auditory hallucination, and you're giving me the same information that a serial killer gets from his mind." Kirk understood that this "option" made him sound like a mad-man, but he preferred it to being beaten at the hands of the pretentious incarnation of his brain.

The voice chuckled. "If that's the case, it still means that I am a part of your mind, which means that you already know that you aren't ready to complete the test." Kirk rolled his eyes, a million comments on the tip of his tongue. "Or that I just have doubts." He didn't believe his own words, and he knew that he had lost the argument.

"Kirk, I have known you for four years. You never have doubts about yourself, you always believe that you are correct. Even subconsciously, you are still an arrogant ass." Kirk had to smile at this phrasing, knowing that she was right. "You know, I want to be ready for the damn thing, but every time I come here, you automatically squash my... well, my dreams. Maybe if you weren't here, it would be easier." One of the few small, glowing orbs passed Kirk's head as he finished his sentence. He watched the orb as it dropped to the floor, where one of the pictures was directly in his view. Kirk stared at the pictures as they slowly passed him by. He entered a trance, not looking away from the images.

The room began to fade to white slowly, as Kirk looked around him, a silent goodbye as he departed this world and entered the next.

*

Kirk sat up in his office, on the leather couch across from the desk. He looked at his desk, where Olivia sat at one of the chairs.

"Did you wake me?" He asked her, gazing groggily into her eyes. But he really didn't care about the answer. Not to _that_ question, anyway.


	4. From Somewhere Far Away

--

Chapter Three: From Somewhere Far Away

--

Olivia stood up, holding a brown folder in her hand. With a sly smile, she moved closer to Kirk, and handed him the folder.

"Time to get up. Walter found an ID on the victim from St. Claire's, and something else, but we need to go to his lab." She stood cross-armed in front of Kirk as he looked over the file. Kirk placed the folder next to him, on the couch. He stood up, and stretched him arms. "Hurry up." Olivia had a dark look on her face as she walked slowly back to the desk, and leaned against it.

Kirk eyed his ex-girlfriend as he took his jacket off the arm of the couch, and started putting it on. "You shouldn't have woken me. I was having a dream where I was on a tropical island with a lot of pretty ladies. It was cool, and you ruined it." Olivia smiled at his accusation. "I'm sure you'll get back soon enough. But right now, we have to do our job."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "It never ends with you people. Jobs, school..." He and Olivia began to walk to the door. "'_Us_' people?" Olivia asked, irritated.

"Yeah. You government people. Always trying to keep a brother down." Olivia laughed at this comment. "A brother? You're white, and you don't even have a sibling." Kirk started to smile as the frame of his little rant came crashing down. "Yeah, well... maybe that's because of _you_ people."

*

As they drove to Walter's laboratory at Harvard, Kirk and Olivia weren't as angry at each other as they usually were. They weren't all the way back together, as Kirk had hoped, but in bits and pieces, he was gaining ground. Now, she would joke and laugh with him like friends, but the obvious sexual history still made one-on-one situations somewhat tense.

Kirk read through the folder as Olivia drove, sitting next to him. "Arvin Butler. D.O.B. August 16, 1967. Huh..." Kirk flipped the page and kept reading. "... this guy was put in St. Claire's a few months after Walter."

Olivia sighed when Kirk brought up the subject. "Yeah. Peter wants us to keep that a little quiet around Walter. He gets very upset when we talk about St. Claire's." Kirk nodded his understanding and kept reading.

"So," He started, not looking away from the folder. "how are you with this case? I mean, what with Charlie, and all." Olivia looked upset about her partner, and remained silent for a few seconds. "I'm fine. It's good, I want to be able to put an end to these things, and this is another step." She turned to Kirk and smiled. "Thanks for asking." Kirk smiled back, noting the brownie-points he would gain from this car ride. "Olivia." He spoke easily, in a soft tone. As their eyes locked, it felt as though time had stopped for them. "What?" She asked, not taking her gaze away from his.

"Watch the road." Kirk's last easy words snapped her out of the trance, as she faced the road again.

*

Olivia stepped through the door into the familiar atmosphere of Walter Bishop's laboratory. Scientific equipment littered the already cluttered room, but nobody ever seemed to want to clean up. Kirk followed after Olivia, closing the door behind him as they walked further into the lab. Walter and his assistant Astrid Farnsworth were standing over the body from St. Claire's, performing some form of wacky, generally dangerous experiment, as Peter stood a few feet away, watching the display with disdain. "Walter," Peter started, walking closer. "there's no way that you could actually believe this." Walter looked up from the body, to his son. "Oh, I don't _believe_ it, Peter. I _know_ it."

Kirk and Olivia walked down the three steps into the main floor, while Gene mooed in the back, greeting the new arrival. All attention in the room turned to Kirk and Olivia. Except for, of course, the dead man.

"Thank god. Voices of reason. Walter, would you tell them what you told me?" Olivia looked confused at the activity, though Kirk, who ran his hand through many scientific trinkets and baubles on one of the desks, looked disconnected.

Walter faced Olivia, and told her with all seriousness: "I believe that this man was not just a shape-shifter, but also from the future." This brought Kirk to attention, squarely facing Walter with a freaked-out look on his face. "What?!" He dropped the small, metal instrument on the floor, causing a loud clanging noise.

"I have done every form of test, every kind of experiment, every type of examination that there is, and I have come to the conclusion that the shape-shifter had to be from the future. Previous shape-shifters that we have found did not give their appearance to their victim, but this one did." Walter looked happy at his diagnosis, smiling as he spoke. "I'm sorry, but haven't you even considered the possibility that he might have just had a newer model of their equipment? Or that, maybe, he didn't complete the shift, and that is actually Arvin Butler?" Peter was definitely the most down-to-earth of anyone in this lab, the possible exception being Olivia. Astrid actually enjoyed taking care of Gene the Cow, Walter had most of his brilliant ideas while on a hallucinogenic-cocktail, and Kirk was having recurring dreams about a creepy dream-room and a voice in his head.

"Please, son. Be rational. No, this shape-shifter is clearly from the future. The real culprit is still at-large somewhere, but I think I may have the solution to our problems." Walter moved over to another table, where a few more machines, gadgets and doo-dads were piled up messily. Meanwhile, Peter was deep into the longest eye-roll he had ever experienced, doubting his father's judgment so vehemently. "It may be possible to extract some of the shape-shifter's DNA from the man on the table. Now, I am not certain, but if Arvin Butler -- the shape-shifter, had actually changed his appearance with the orderly, then that could mean Arvin Butler's current appearance -- the orderly, may have left some kind of trace on this man." Walter began sorting through the many devices on the table. "We know that a shape-shifter takes the exterior appearance of his victim, but not of the interior. There may still be a piece of the orderly left inside this body." Walter sank his head into the tools on the table.

Kirk was confused at the near-impossible notion of taking somebody else's body, but the science behind it was, Kirk thought, entirely beyond-belief. "Oh..." Walter looked up from the desk, at Astrid, standing next to the body. "... Asterix, to perform this procedure, I will need a few empty vials, some surgical equipment, and possibly a tub of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream." Astrid had learned not to ask questions about Walter's insane and inopportune food cravings, nor to correct him when he mispronounced her name. She began to hunt for his requests without debate.

Kirk looked at his watch, realizing that the following operation would take numerous hours. "Alright, you keep doing that, and I'm... I'm not gonna _do_ that." He turned around to leave the lab, trying to get out as fast as possible, before Walter asked him to do something crazy and very loosely scientific. "Olivia, you coming?" Kirk stopped on the second step, turning around.

*

As Kirk and Olivia walked off of the Harvard grounds, they saw that the sun had gone down completely. "After work, you wanna get a drink?" Kirk asked very innocently, walking along at a slow pace. "Um..." Olivia though for a second.

"Sure."


End file.
